reflections
by Merida's Hair
Summary: "The moonlight glitterings on the water's surface and the twinkling of the light bugs and the sweet, sweet air are the closest ties she has to the Moors. The tensions uncoil from her stomach as she sits sideways on the grass, feels the blades tickle her ankles and bare feet. She misses her." Older!Aurora/Maleficent
1. Lake-Side

A/N: alinaandalion on tumblr presented the idea of sixteen-year-old Aurora having a one-sided crush on maleficent, and from this fic sort of sprung. Here we have a much older Aurora, in her mid twenties or so, having realized that crush years later, and having realized it's developed as she's matured. In this i also got to explore Aurora's character and tried to develop her past what the movie told us.

Basically, I think if romantic Maleficent/Aurora happens, it won't happen until several years after canon, and this is my attempt at exploring that. Also trying to make sure to include that their current relationship wouldn't pale to romance, so hopefully that got across. Ii don't want to give too much away, but this is definitely not a fic about unrequited feelings.)

* * *

No matter how long Aurora lives in the castle, it hasn't been _home._ Not even when Phillip had been alive and young and they'd run through the castle walls, still children trying to cast light into shadows long forgotten.

_Home_ is far away, in the Moors, where the colors are brightest and the gentle, but powerful tendrils of magic run in swaying fields and dance across streams. The Moors, where every citizen is connected through that magic, where the forest understands their joys, their sufferings, their needs.

It's hard to listen to the calls of a world without it. Where the grass is just grass and the colors are dull. The calls instead came from its people, their shouts of_usurper_, never quite believing that the king's own daughter would grieve so little about his death and side with the _Wicked Fairy _no less. How she focussed her rule on spreading a different sort of magic; kindness, and as much as she can give as a ruler of such a long suffering people. She's learned to love her people and they've learned to trust her. Aurora is hardly the girl so enchanted by the Moors that she'd give up all her responsibilities to play with the sprites and throw mud at the swamp creatures, but _still._

With a strong beating of wings, those same wings enfolding her, every flutter like a heartbeat, and a soft smile reserved for her and a low rumble of _hello, beastie_, it's where her home lies.

She can only return in the summer: when the magic is strongest due to the vibrant sunlight and when the people of this kingdom can spare her. The Moors never needed her. They only loved her. There was a time she needed the Moors, perhaps, needed Maleficent to show her the wonders of the world so she would never forget, so she would never grow greedy and cruel like her father. Like the kings before him.

But years past. The stone of the castle grew lighter. Though the war in the west that took Phillip left her wondering if there was nothing but violence and blood in her people, made her long for wings herself, she was strong. Like her father, but without his lust for power. Like her mother, who dreamed of her return every day until her death. Who tried to rule on her own when her father stopped.

_Still. _There's only so many diplomatic meetings and heavy gowns she can withstand before she retreats to the lake in a simple silk shift and a gauzed robe. The moonlight glitterings on the water's surface and the twinkling of the light bugs and the sweet, sweet air are the closest ties she has to the Moors. The tension uncoils from her stomach as she sits sideways on the grass, feels the blades tickle her ankles and bare feet.

She misses her. It hits her again, like a snap of cold wind against her cheeks, how the acutely she feels her absence without being surrounded by ladies and lords and knights and handmaids. The shadow of horns meant _safety_. Meant home and comfort and love. Maleficent would still try to scare her, frustrated and almost pouty when every time Aurora would only greet her with a smile.

She does so love her little tricks.

Without quite thinking it through she speaks her name into the wind, hoping it might carry all the way to the Moors, so this loneliness can leave her bones. She is _Your Majesty_ here. Not many call her Aurora. Not many know exactly who she is. They don't know that she loves pomegranates the most, but will always make sure the kingdom gets to have the fruit before it arrives at the castle. They don't know she despises wearing her hair up, restrained in tight buns and coiled ringlets. They don't know that she spends hours in the library, pouring over history books and novels, how she longs to tell these stories, but knows how many will call her silly for them.

Maleficent always listened. As her stories grew less fanciful and more meaningful, she always listened with a smile at Aurora's great passion.

She scoots further towards the water, lets her toes sink into the mud beneath. She tries to imagine Maleficent's expression when she expresses her wish for Maleficent to join her in the stream. The regal poise of her head and her deep, rumbled laugh.

_I'm afraid my wings would sink to the bottom. And they're rather a burden to dry afterward. I don't think Diavel would appreciate having to carry me to the Moors. _ _  
_

_But aren't you bored just watching me swim, Maleficent?_

She stopped calling her _Godmother_ around her twentieth birthday. She wasn't entirely sure why at the time, except that the title didn't quite _fit_ anymore. It wasn't until later that other truths became known to her, when she started recognizing the butterflies Maleficent's smile produced start to settle into something new and deeper. When after Phillip died, she realized there would be no other for her to marry. No other man at least, though many had tried for her hand.

_Why, that's preposterous. I could never be bored spending time with you._

In the distance she hears a crow and her eyes try to focus on a tiny black dot in the dark blue skies, underneath the soft glow of the moon and the bugs. She steps back from the water and leans her back against a boulder a feet away.

And she laughs. _Of course. _

She closes her eyes and when she hears a gentle _swish_, the loneliness is swept away.

"Hello, Maleficent." She says.

She hears a frustrated noise. "Just when I think I was the quietest I've ever been."

Aurora turns her head. "It's windy tonight." She offers, but a tiny smirk forms in the corner of her mouth.

But Maleficent doesn't continue their little game, just sweeps her bright eyes over Aurora's form and creases her brow. She steps forward, her long robes draping flapping in the breeze, and her wings trailing behind her. Carefully, she positions herself on the rock next to Aurora.

"Indeed it is. Is there some reason why you _insist_ on wearing those thin robes on chilly nights? You could easily catch a chill."

When she was younger, Maleficent's chiding used to make her blush and smile. She'd allow Maleficent to wrap a wing around her, pull her into her own warmth and feel the magic flicker and rustle underneath her skin. No one else was allowed to touch Maleficent's wings but her, after all.

Now her face burns in irritation. As she sees Maleficent's wing begin to spread towards her, she rises, crosses her arms and walks towards the stream. Maybe if she steps into them completely, the burn will leave. She doesn't like the imagery of _burning_. It reminds her of harsh screaming and glowing iron. Then again, the stream might really cause her a chill.

She hears another swish. "Have I done something to anger you, beastie? I was under the impression that you _wished_ for my presence tonight." She feels a tentative hand on her shoulder, and that also feels like burning. But a different one altogether.

Aurora still doesn't look at her. She opens her mouth and closes it for the words change several times as they rise in her throat. She breathes deeply through her nostrils. Several moments later, Maleficent's hand falls away, and she clears her throat a few times. If Aurora looked she'd most likely see that impassive expression Maleficent has mastered when she doesn't want to appear emotional or hurt. It works on humans and on her aunties.

But not on Aurora. It never has.

She quite despises herself for causing it.

"Well. If I'm not wanted or needed, I must be getting back-"

"No, stay." She says quickly because the idea of her leaving is a lot more unbearable than the thought of her staying. "Please." She finally looks at her, and Maleficent's eyes are wide and her lips are pressed together. She stares at them. And curses butterflies.

"Fine." She finally says. "I'll be sitting here while you stew in whatever troubles you're feeling. If you need to talk, I'll be right here."

Always right there. A bird call away, if Aurora is being honest. But Diaval only calls for Maleficent when he knows how much Aurora is missing her, on nights like these, by the lake like the Moors.

She breathes out and turns around. "I take care of myself, you know. And I've always preferred the cold."

Maleficent gives a somewhat sad smile. It's strange. It's almost nostalgic. "I know _very_ well, beastie. I just worry."

"Don't call me that." She snaps.

Maleficent bristles and stands. Her eyes narrow. "Aurora, _what_ is going on? You're never quite _this_ irritable, even when a suitor tries to court you for the fifteenth time." Her voice is rising in volume and intensity, and Aurora is drawn to it.

"Nothing! Nothing. I…" She licks her lips. "My birthday was last month." She reminds.

Maleficent nods, but suspicion still lurks in her eyes. Aurora doesn't like the suspicion. It reminds her of how Maleficent looks at her guards, although with far less harshness and ferocity.

"Yes, I know. I have your gift back home. What does that have to do with it?" _Home. _It might be the chilly air numbing her lungs and filling her head with all too much impulsivity, but she takes Maleficent's hand, twines her fingers as carefully as threading a needle. She hears a sharp intake of breath and Maleficent is staring at their hands, curiously. It's limp for a few minutes before curling around hers, as protectively as her wings would. She feels that warm rustle of magic underneath her skin.

"You still think of me as a child." Aurora says, her voice quite low. "But I haven't been for quite some time. I've led a war tribunal. I watched my husband's body being brought in with sword run through it, before he and I were able to bear children. I've led two realms myself. I don't need…" She dares stare into Maleficent's eyes, wanting understanding, but also greatly fearing it.

Maleficent falters for a moment, nearly imperceptible to anyone but Aurora, before giving another sad smile. "Me, anymore. I suppose you're-"

"No, _no_, not-" She nearly growls in frustration and before she can think of a better idea, she leans forward. Her hand reaches up and her fingertips graze Maleficent's, just barely touching. Her cheek is cold, oh the _hypocrisy_. Her stomach fills with warmth nonethelessand she spots Maleficent's hand raises in uncharacteristic uncertainty and she grabs it very gently, places it on her waist. It stays, but it's just as light a touch as Aurora's fingertips.

"Aurora." Maleficent whispers. Her eyes bore into hers, the luminosity taking Aurora's breath away for a moment. Her touch then becomes a little more firm, reaching up to lightly stroke her strong cheekbones, curl down to her jaw.

"Tell me to stop, that I've got it all wrong, and I'll….we'll just go back to the way things are. Because I love you. And that's never going to change." She despises how her voice has become so hoarse. Maleficent's eyes flutter shut at the touch and she thinks for just a spectacular moment, with the wind rushing around them, the noises of the stream in her ears, Maleficent's soft breaths on her hand, she thinks that maybe, _perhaps,_ everything she's feeling might and she begins to lean in, just ever so slightly-

Maleficent's hand comes up to stroke hers for removing it, but keeps it hovering by her face still. Her eyes open and they've never been this close before. "Aurora, I-" It's a warning.

She wrenches away, the touch suddenly like iron to a fairy. She takes a deep, shuddering breath before poising herself like the Queen she is, schooling her features and clearing her throat. "I apologize, Maleficent. I never meant to, I don't…" Tears well up and she chases them away. "Forgive me."

The sad eyes are back, the smile, and there's something else lurking there, and Aurora just wants to know what it _is, _why it's causing her heartache. Like when she was a girl, and Maleficent was this shadow, this enigma, instead of her dearest friend, someone she bears her soul to.

"There's nothing to forgive." She says, and it's all too formal, before spreading her wings and like always, Aurora is astounded by the span of them, the gentle hints of bronzed gold in the tawny brown feathers. With a single flap, she's gone, rushing into the air, to rejoin the magic in her forest, that she left because Aurora was lonely and sad.

She shivers, perhaps for the first time because of the cold. She lays down, allows her messy curls to mingle with the grass blades, watches the light bugs. She sucks in a breath and tries not to cry, because what has she done?

And again, she misses her.


	2. Streams

A/N: Looks like this is going to be a three-shot. Also in my head, Older!Aurora looks a bit like Lily Rabe. Thank you to skillzyo on tumblr for that idea. My headcanon surrounding Maleficent's connection to the forest is explored here, as well as thoughts circulating both throughout my own head and the fandom surrounding Maleficent's thoughts on Stefan and his betrayal.

* * *

As she flies overhead, the forest responds.

The forests of the Moors have always been closely in tune with her magic, intertwined even. The years human vengeance sought understanding with her anger and hurt, the forest changed with her. The plants not withering but sprouting new flowers with poisonous darts, the tree bark turning into obsidian, hard enough that iron swords couldn't pass through. It was not in fear of Maleficent, but rather a reflection. And protection, as the other creatures of the Moors accepted her rule, also not because of fear of her, but in fear for their lands, for the quiet spot of harmony they're nestled in.

For if Maleficent's wings could be taken, what else could be?

It was a question, thankfully, no one had to answer.

Then again, that was wrong. They did fear her, even as they understood she was in pain, understood that it was the _humans_ that took from her, that it wasn't Maleficent's fault. They feared how the strong hold vengeance had on her heart. It took many years for them to cease fearing her, for them to remember her without the shield over her horns, without the dark robes and cawing crow. The humans still feared her. They would always fear what is different to them.

Today the forest hears her conflict, the stress of the evening running through her veins, down her spine, and the branches curl inward as she arrives, perhaps seeking to give her a wide berth, or some space as she _thinks._ She lands on her feet somewhere between where the wall used to lie and the heart of the Moors with a _thud_ and doesn't remember ever feeling quite so breathless before after a flight. She hears a caw and Diaval hovers next to her, starts pecking at her shoulder, lightly, to be turned into a human.

She knows what he will say, and really does _not_ wish to hear it. She needs time to process well, _everything._ Stop her heart beating so very quickly.

"Shoo." She hisses at him, but he merely cocks his bird head and caws again, louder this time. Oh the _insufferable_ little-

"If you're going to keep squawking like that, I'll turn you into an ant." His next caw reminds her of an eye roll. She glares at him.

"Oh don't think I _won't._" She stalks ahead and once again, the vines and branches retreat from her path. Diaval flaps behind her cawing and cawing and-

She sighs. _"Human."_ She says, lifting a finger in his direction. His wings shrink back as flesh tears itself out of feathers and with a few sputters he's looking at her like she's killed a pixie. Or an entire family of pixies.

"Maleficent, I swear to-"

"Whatever you're thinking of berating me for, I've done that and _more._" She responds tersely and stalks forward once more, hoping he understands once and for all how very much she needs to be alone in her tree, with the stars and her thoughts for company, because it's going to be a difficult night no matter what.

He ducks in front of her and she curses all the animals that have given him that agility, _and_ the fact that he was one of the few in this realm and the next that could do so without getting brushed away by her magic.

"What Aurora's done tonight was not spontaneous, nor was it the whims of a silly child! Which is due to the fact that she's _not_ a child. In fact, _you're_ behaving _much_ more like a child right now."

She points her finger at him, very ready to say the words, and he raises his hand in surrender before speaking much more quietly once more.

"You forget how much I see in my many forms. I know of your love for her, how deeply it runs." He catches Maleficent's eyes and she purses her lips, looking past him at the heart of the Moors, the glittering lights dotting the ground, the cool stream of water.

"She is a human." Maleficent finally says. "Humans take and take." She remembers the wind stinging her back, the emptiness in her gut mirroring the empty space where her wings should be, how every step hurt, how it felt like someone stole her very soul for something as silly as a crown.

He looks shocked that she'd make such a statement. "Aurora isn't just _any_ human."

"No." Maleficent concedes as ardor warms the hurt still left, all these years later, of being betrayed so deeply. "She is not. She rebuilt the bridge Stefan struck down with his _greed._"

"Would you trust her with your heart?" Diaval asks.

"Idiot bird, I already trust her with my heart." She snaps. "It's not a matter of the _heart_, it wasn't a matter of the _heart_ when her father took my wings." She pushes him away and continues on, knowing that when she reaches her tree, he'll back off. He knows–_everyone_ knows–that her tree is her own private space of existence.

"Regardless, you broke _hers_ tonight. And that's something you promised to never do." He crosses his arms and cocks his head, unable to get rid of his raven's mannerisms. She pauses in her step, looks back and is unable to keep her voice from going slightly hoarse.

"I know." She swallows and breathes and breathes. "I just need to think. I need to understand when this all became-"

"It happened right under your nose. And they call _me_ daft."

She rolls her eyes, but sighs and sits down on a nearby rock. "Would it deeply surprise you if I told you I'm frightened?" She creates her voice soft, so the trees won't hear.

"Of falling in love, romantically?"

"Of labeling it as such." She admits, and yes she is grateful that Diaval was there for the worst of moments, that he is one of the two in this realm that understands her under titles such as the _Wicked Fairy,_ the _Protector of the Moors._

He scoffs, but he sits down next to her. "It _is _to do with Stefan, isn't it?"

She looks away for a moment, twisting her mouth, not quite sure how to explain the inexplicable panic that rose within her when Aurora leaned in, though it wasn't because of a lack of wanting. The last human she'd kissed like that took her wings. Aurora would never take her wings, not in a millennia, she's passionate as her father, but nowhere as desiring for pure power, regardless of what he had to take and lose to gain it. But these are such Human Things. Love, in the Moors, is _not_ defined. Children are raised by everyone. Lovers do not marry and do not have jealousies when lovers move on, though some of the creatures have intricate lifelong bonding processes. Some creatures don't even take lovers.

Human Things haven't been kind to Maleficent. She'd stood by Aurora's side during the war that took Phillip and held her hand as solidly as she could as her world crumbled under her feet due to greed and hatred once again.

Love, love is very different. But human love is also mixed with greed, mixed with hatred. On Aurora's end, she will meet all kinds of that for declaring her love to a fairy. And she won't have their relationship ruined when humans inevitably catch wind of their unmarried queen dallying with her.

She's more fascinated than reviled by humans these days, but no she doesn't trust them to understand love as those in the Moors do. She doesn't trust _them_ with Aurora's heart. Many times it has been broken, from losing her mother and father twice, once from learning they died, and the second from learning the truth, and then the war that took many, including her husband. She won't be added again to the list.

But then again, Diaval _is _right. She has broken her heart, simply by flying away. She's never been one to run, and perhaps that's why she's so breathless now. Perhaps all her breath is waiting for Aurora to seal it back with that kiss, in the kingdom, by the lake

She remembers Aurora then in that too thin slip, foolish for she'll catch a chill again, her blond ringlets glowing with the lightbugs, the coolness of her light touch and how it warmed her cheek instead of chilling it further. How she truly did want to lean in herself, accept her touch.

"Yes, and no." She finally answers Diaval. "I don't wish to discuss this anymore."

"Give it a few days, then go back." Diaval says with a sigh. "You'll regret it if you let this go until summertime."

"I know." She repeats and before he has any time to add anymore, she says _"bird"_ and points her finger at him once more. His feathers re-sprout and he shrinks, shaking his whole body with the transformation. He glares at her again, as much as a bird can before cawing and taking off into the night.

In a few minutes, she will join him. After-all her tree awaits, and so do the sleepless hours that will follow.


End file.
